BlueIndolence's: LeagueofLegends Archive
by BlueIndolence
Summary: This is my "thought dump"; snippets that will eventually be edited, and featured in my main projects as well as short stories. Sometimes you end up writing super far ahead of yourself, because you just have to write it down before the spark vanishes so its mostly made up of vomit drafts. This is also where I will post previews and ideas for future stories.
1. The Battle Bunny

**The Battle Bunny**

Riven made her way down the barely lit street. She passed by under a lamp post. A multitude of insects flurried around the light source, enslaved by its luminescence. She cursed silently and bit her lip as the high heel of her right ruby shoe caught itself in a crack. She swayed unsteadily before righting herself. _How does Eve move in these things?_ She thought to herself. The blue-skinned seductress didn't just move in them, she often fought in them too. Evelynn may have been a dangerous masochist but you had to respect the woman for her dexterity if nothing else. Riven, even after all this time, still couldn't quite get the hang of the infuriating footwear. For the third time on her way to her part-time job she considered kicking them off and walking the rest of the way barefoot. But then she would only put a hole in her stockings, and those weren't hers to begin with.

A cool gust of air blew across the park. Riven wrapped the long trench coat around her toned figure, blushing slightly at the thought of what lay underneath. _How did I even end up working at Furries?_ The whole thing was ridiculous, but Chase was a savvy businessman. A wily coyote of sorts with a wallet packed with silver and a tongue to match it. He knew how to get what he wanted and somehow he had talked her into taking this occupation. Never in her life had she ever imagined herself working in such an establishment. But there it was.

Riven continued her way down the beaten sidewalk. She often took this route as a shortcut on her way to work whenever she ended up late or lost track of time due to her frequent matches. Chase usually cut her some slack but Riven didn't like taking advantage of his patience and she made it a resolution to show up to work on time whenever she could. She shouldn't have had to work. Champion funds were quite lucrative, but all her earnings were going to a better cause. Riven frowned and her thoughts inevitably drifted to the horrors of her experiences in the war. The reconstruction efforts in Ionia were still ongoing. Even after a decade the scars of war still remained and there was much to be done to fix the mistakes of the past.

 _I guess this is a form of penance as well._ Riven thought to herself soberly

It was night time. Well into the evening. The moon was out in all its platinum glory, a pale disk that pierced the darkness. The silver sphere illuminated her path clearly, as if in approval of her actions. She probably didn't even need the aid of the hexaturgically powered streetlamps. The city that surrounded the outskirts of the Institute was probably the second most advanced in all of Valoran beaten only by the City of Progress itself. Riven stopped, slowing down briefly to take in the moons heavenly glory. She chided herself for dilly dallying. Riven needed to hurry or she would be late. If Diana caught her looking moonstruck the zealot would probably try to browbeat Riven into joining her moon cult.

"Beautiful moon tonight, don't you think?" A silky aristocratic voice said from behind.

Riven paused. Not many people could sneak up on her. She was startled at first but then she became extremely alert when she realized who had addressed her.

"Vladimir." She said coldl **y**. Her tone was noticeably neutral. A man materialized from the shadow of a tree, wearing a bright red coat as was his usual attire. He had been casually leaning against its trunk. The Crimson Reaper lived up to his namesake. Riven couldn't remember an instance where Vlad had worn any shade other than one resembling blood. The man might have been handsome to Riven if not for his reputation or his eyes. She was very familiar with those eyes by now. They were the windows to the soul of a killer, and it was a career Vlad enjoyed to the fullest. Riven knew way too many monsters for her liking, and the thing that depressed her most was that she had worked with many of them in the past. She had _been_ one in the past, though Riven had never made Vlad's acquaintance till she joined the League.

"My, you're so cold Riven", He said. "No need to be so sour. You'll work up your blood pressure if you behave that way. It's not healthy you know." Vladimir grinned in a way he probably thought was disarming.

To Riven it only came off as predatory. "Thank you for your concern." Riven turned continuing on her way. "But I am in a hurry and I don't have time to chat."

"I know you don't exactly care much for fashion Riven, but really that rag you've got draped around you is obscene. It's a shame how you cover up your form in that debauchery. A woman of your caliber should let it all out."

 _Was that a compliment?_ Riven blushed slightly at the thought of someone making a positive remark about her appearance. She wasn't accustomed to such things and barely gave them any thought. Then she remembered who she was speaking and the fact that he'd also managed to insult her at the same time.

"Allow me to be your escort for this evening." Vlad said, sweeping his leg behind him while making an elaborate bow. "As it so happens I'm heading towards the same place as you."

Rivens eyes grew wide in shock. "No. That's not-Wherever you think I'm heading you're mistaken."

"Oh am I?" This time Vlad's smirk was intended to be predatory. "Then you won't mind showing me what you've got hidden under there. Nothing scandalous I hope."

Riven colored once more: subconsciously wrapping the trench coat tighter around her form. "That's right. And I don't need your company or an escort. I am a Champion and am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Now that's harsh." Vlad, said rising from his bow. "I'm only trying to be a gentleman. Where's the harm in two fellow Noxians going for a relaxing stroll together?" As I said before we're going to the same place. _Furries_ is only a little ways from here. They serve really delicious red wine. The manager there has exceptionally good taste for such a quaint establishment."

Riven nodded hesitantly. Of course Vlad would know she worked there. He was actually quite a regular customer at _Furries_ along with a few other Champions. Graves had often made his rounds there and driven up the tab on more than a few occasions. Riven had even seen Talon once or twice but she guessed it was more for the purpose of acquiring information and using it as a meeting place to conduct his shady operations with clients. The only saving grace out of any Champions she knew was Zac and he was only there because he had been hired as the clubs 'bouncer'; a pun that had not been lost on the goofy gelatinous blob man. He must have laughed for hours before they could get him to shut up about it.

Riven thought she had managed to hide herself well enough when a customer came in that she recognized. She would often request Chayce to allow her to work from behind the kitchen or in another area of the bar. Riven didn't exactly want word getting out that she was working there. If it became common knowledge she would have had to kill herself from embarrassment. Unfortunately she had developed a sort of reputation. Riven had twisted more than a few lecherous groping hands that sought out her firm buttocks. Before Zac, Riven had been _Furries_ unofficial security guard. Whenever some of their patrons got too rowdy or tried to carry off one of the girls Riven had sent more than a few of the scoundrels packing with plenty of broken bones to remind them to behave. People had started calling her 'the Battle Bunny'. Zac's employment was something of a godsend in that regard. He could draw some of the attention away from her finally by taking over those duties.

It was her fault but Riven still had her pride and she had developed a surrogate family of sorts at Furries. She was very protective of everyone who worked there. She was actually starting to make friends and - on a few occasions - even had heartfelt conversations with some of the girls regarding her past. From those conversations she was shocked to discover that many of her coworkers had plenty of skeletons buried in their own closets. It was comforting, being reminded that she wasn't the only person in the world lamenting their life-choices.

Chayce, _Furries_ owner, manager, and bartender had been the biggest surprise out of all of them. She had originally pegged him as some female sex objectifying man who only cared about making a tidy profit, but he watched out for his employees, especially the girls. His employees viewed him as something of a brother or a father figure depending on who you asked. If something bad happened or they had an issue with a customer Chayce would usually give those working under him the benefit of the doubt. Chayce had an odd sort of chivalry to him; a strange characteristic for a man running a bawdy night club.

Riven and Vlad made their way to _Furries_. Vlad extended a bent arm as an invitation. She took it after a moment's hesitation, hooking her arm inside. Riven knew Vlad was an unrepentant murderer, so why did she feel absurdly rude when she thought of declining him? Sighing deeply, she relented, though not with-out considerable stiffness on her part. Riven walked on in stoney-faced silence while Vladimir, sensing her discomfort, smiled almost good-naturedly.

 _He's enjoying this. Bastard!_ Riven was tempted to yank her arm out of the crook of his elbow right then. She felt trapped. This almost seemed too convenient. Had he been waiting for her…stalking her even?

"Take a deep breath Riven. Your pulse is getting a little frantic. Is something on your mind", He enquired.

"No." Riven replied almost too quickly. "It's nothing. Nothing at all." Riven hated how easily he could read her. Vlad was very perceptive of others state of mind, no doubt an attribute to being a practiced Hemomancer. It was either that or he was just insightful by nature, and - being this close - he no doubt could sense the blood flowing through her veins. The thought made her feel cold even underneath the thick fibers of her trench coat.

Vladimir shrugged. "Who am I to argue? You know your own feelings better than I."

Riven did not respond. She continued on in uncomfortable silence, though Vladimir seemed incredibly relaxed himself. He even struck up a jaunty tune and whistled quite skillfully as they walked. It was odd, but his casualness somehow relieved some of Riven's tension. She began to feel less worried as _Furries_ came into view. A neon pink sign decorated the front of the building, depicting the sultry outline of a woman wearing an animalistic outfit. The words 'Furries' was written beneath it in flamboyant cursive writing. It was good they had arrived. Rivens mind had been constantly haunted by the idea of being left as another female statistic buried in a city park.

"See?" Vladimir said. "That wasn't so bad. A friendly stroll never killed anybody." Vlad laughed breathlessly as he entered Furries, leaving Riven behind to scowl after him. She took a deep breath before following him inside. A strange foreboding came over, but it didn't have anything to do with her escort. She just had this unnerving feeling that it was going to be a long night.


	2. The Death of a Moth

**_Some of my followers may remember this chapter. I decided to remove it from my main story "Born in Blood" due to chronological issues I had with it, so for the time being I shall leave it here till I'm ready to implement it properly. So it shall be displayed here for the time being._**

 _Noxian-Ionian War_

 _The Great Stand of the Placidium_

Serenity was as close a single word could ever hope to describe the Placidium. The Jewel of Ionia was a city of temples, monasteries, shrines, and towering pagodas, each bearing its own sacred magnitude. Structures were carved out of the face of cliff, land, and hill. Waterfalls and streams crested down the slopes of the mountain range, weaving like dragons between beautifully wrought architecture before seeping into the lush valley that harbored the rest of the Placidium's domiciles. There were no factories, or anything of an overly industrial nature. The Ionians had always sought to maintain harmony within them-selves and they extended that courtesy to their environment as well. "Balance in all things." This was their mantra, and never was it more apparent here than in the very heart of Ionia. While the Placidium may not have been the island nation of Ionia's capital it was the core of its spirituality. Here, all leylines converged upon Ionia's greatest treasures and its most prominent Nexus. The Serene Gardens lay within the center of the tranquil city, home of the Great Tree, as well as the famed Shojin Monastery where monks trained tirelessly to master mind and body.

It was August, and the sun shone brilliantly in its afternoon glory. Gentle breezes tempered the blazing sun with their mild caress. A rich blue sky dotted with fair weather cotton balls heralded the promise of an uneventful peace. The bees and Monarch butterflies gathered in their numbers to pollinate the flora and gardens that were in abundance.

A lonesome moth, derelict in its duties, rose above the balmy air currents to the heights of a majestic pagoda tower. Here it rested upon the topmost eaves of the world renowned School of Transcendentalism. Utterly spent from its ascent, the dull colored creature spread itself across the shingles; gripping the surface with a grim determination that spoke of its unwillingness to be capsized by the prevailing wind. Every so often, a gust would liberate the moth from its purchase, causing it to flutter madly to right itself. It would do so, only to be hoisted off balance once more. The struggle briefly captured the attention of another who made the roof of the famed university its vantage point.

The Darkin's piercing red eye glazed over the moths vain efforts with vague interest. Aatrox had taken a moments respite from observing the congregation of Ionians below.

A great crowd had gathered in the massive city square beneath him.

From the opposite end of the square and the tower, a podium had been raised. Behind it, a woman was addressing the crowd, an empath from what Aatrox could gather, and young too; no more than twenty perhaps. She had been pointlessly attempting to rouse her compatriots to take up arms for a good while. The woman wore a black and white kimono, and red tear drop markings graced her sun-browned cheeks. Her dark-brown hair was tied up in a ceremonial bun. Her hands wielded ornate fans, sweeping the air every so often to exemplify her words. The intonation of her voice would swell and fall ever so slightly, subtly teasing the ear and drawing the eye. Aatrox could also make out slight oscillations of energy that she tweaked and manipulated to rile up the emotions she wished to inspire.

She was not unskilled in her craft, and in some of the more spirited members of the crowd, managed to illicit a few heartfelt cries of resistance, but they were swallowed by an overwhelming cacophony; silence. It was far too late. The blanket of despair had already smothered their hearts. Aatrox knew it, and she knew it too. He could hear it now in her voice. Oh she attempted to mask it, but it was there. Desperation coated the surface of her uplifting words like oil on an otherwise pristine lake.

Aatrox shook his head at the futility of it all. He held little value in long winded discourse. Words were appealing but intangible. They had no real worth unless backed by something that could be held, wielded, and observed; preferably an instrument of death. Action was the fundamental value of speech. Without deeds, words became as pointless as a blade without an edge. A skilled orator could revive beleaguered soldiers, but in Aatrox's experience the impact of a rallying address was compounded if sponsored by a mountain of butchered adversaries…and a wolf to lead the charge.

The female continued, defiant, and unwilling to give up just yet. She had started out confident enough, but no one budged. Not one of her people answered the call to defend their city. Defeat rang in their ears like the mournful dirge of a bell. Their Elders had seen to that. They announced their intentions to surrender just over an hour ago. These so called leaders would rather expose their subject's throats to the advancing Noxian army than risk the destruction of their fair city.

They were fools. Did they believe appeasement would preserve their utopia? Where was the lion amongst these sheep? Aatrox wanted nothing more than to see an inferno blossom within these shriveled wicks that dare call themselves _Men_. Surely, there was someone here who could make their spirits roar? Aatrox was tempted to do so himself. This shameless defeatism grated the Darkin's nerves to no end. Outside, his hellish face was as expressionless as ever. Internally, he was screaming. Only the broiling of his eyes betrayed his innermost thoughts.

 _Fight! Kill, damn you! Rage against the fate imposed upon you! Is self-preservation so worthless!?_ _There is no splendor to be crafted from a placating demise!_ Aatrox was standing before he realized what he was doing. Unbridled fury consumed him. His left hand clasped the towers 'demon catcher', a metal lighting rod affixed to the top of the Pagoda, in a death grip. The iron groaned from the pressure.

He would teach them! He would make them remember what it meant to be alive. They sought harmony, but it had defeated them, deserted them. How could they not see!? Even as their enemies slaughtered them in droves, put those they claimed to love to the sword, and set fire to their lands, they still clung desperately to stagnant tradition and delusions. _I'll go…I'll go forth, and they will witness truth!_

 _NO!_ He stopped himself, but just barely. Aatrox, now fully upright, scanned the entire length of the Placidium. He saw it for what it truly was: a trap, a place where one would grow complacent and soft, cut off from the harsh realities of the magnificent struggle between life and death. That's what struggle was; a harsh, exquisite _reality_. These ingrates had closed their eyes to its beauty. How could they not see what it had to offer? Even in the face of all their suffering they still continued to turn their backs to the truth. Unforgiveable; for that sacrilege alone they did not deserve the honor of his patronage.

Before, he had been curious, the war had drawn him back to this Island. He had not visited it in some time and he had felt….something, a premonition of things to come; something extraordinary. Now…now he just wanted to see this wretched place burnt to ashes around him. He pondered skewering the woman who was speaking in front of their eyes. She seemed to be a prominent figure in their society, well respected and loved. Maybe showering them with her blood would put some fire in their veins and steel in their spines?

Briefly, Aatrox cast an eye at his feet. The moth he had been observing lay twitching on its back, life ebbing from its body. Its struggle was nearing the inevitable conclusion. Everything died, what truly mattered was how.

 _Such a hideous end._ Aatrox turned away from it in disgust, casting his gaze towards the horizon and anywhere else but the eyesore that was the Placidium. He noticed the familiar array of battle formations slowly advancing through the valley; a sight for his sore eyes.

The Ionians dreaded enemy approached the Placidium in great number, no more than ten thousand men. Capturing this symbolic treasure would all but annihilate what little resistance the islanders had given them. They would literally crush their spirit. The Noxian's, backed by their Zaunite war machines and Bilgewater mercenaries, marched recklessly through the valley. Victory danced on the tips of their noses and they surged forth hungrily to snatch it in their jaws. They did not consider the Ionians to be a threat to their careless advance. It was simply a race to see who would have the honor of plundering the jewel of Ionia first. Aatrox disapproved of their overconfidence, despite knowing that it didn't matter.

He could identify more than a dozen gross breaches in their lines that, if a seasoned commander were to exploit, would effectively rout and butcher the invaders effortlessly. The Noxian's would arrive in about an hour, maybe less, if they kept their current pace. It was a shame really. All it would take was an organized counter attack to turn the tide, but this battle like most, was decided before it had even begun. There was nothing for him here.

Aatrox pondered returning to the frozen tundra's of northern Valoran. The Freljord was always a good candidate for brutal campaigns, but he had grown weary with its familiarity, and it was not yet time to harvest the seeds of strife he'd sewn. Lately, he craved for more virgin battlegrounds, but this venture had borne him no fruit to sate the yearning. Words could not adequately convey his disappointment.

Aatrox unfurled his wings, preparing to take to the sky and renew his quest for an immaculate canvas on which to perfect his gruesome tapestry. He had no destination in mind, but here the Darkin Blade was certain no masterpiece was forthcoming…

"I will!" A voice rang out from the square, exuding willful defiance behind every syllable. That voice; it stilled him as if a vice had clasped on to his shoulder. "I will fight!" the voice cried out once more, fiercer and stronger than before.

Aatrox snapped his head back to the square so suddenly and with such force that, had it belonged to a lesser creature it might have broken its own neck. Releasing the 'demon catcher', he slid towards the edge of the pagoda in a crouching position, sabatons dislodging tiles as he went. The steep angle of the roof allowed him to skim across its surface with ease till he came to a sudden halt hazardously close to open air.

 _That Voice!_ Aatrox thought to himself. _Who? Who was its owner?_ His eyes scanned the crowd ravenously…." _who?"_ he muttered aloud _._ Then, he saw her.

~:~

The crowd parted before the young Irelia. When she heard the news of her countrymen resigning themselves to their oppressors she stormed out of her quarters, heart blazing with fury and indignation. Her friend Soraka had chased after her, trying to calm her, but Irelia was having none of it. She could barely hear her friend's attempts to console her over her own righteous anger. Before she realized it, Irelia had outpaced Soraka, losing the Celestial being somewhere along the way. She might have felt guilty for doing so, but Irelia was too furious to care. After everything that had happened, after all their suffering: the lootings, the chemical warfare, the massacres, torture, molestations, and countless other atrocities committed against her people _this_ was their answer?

She had come upon the square in the midst of Karma's speech. The Enlightened One was as impeccable and enduring as ever. She was a sight to behold, a testament to the inner strength and resilience of her homeland; a spirit of unquenchable fire. Irelia allowed herself a brief smile; never doubting for a moment that Karma's resolve was shaken. Even now in their darkest hour, while others embraced doom, their Duchess admirably stepped forward to rouse Ionia from its stupor. Irelia knew it would take far more than that however. Words alone were insufficient for what needed to be done.

"-I ask of you now brothers and sisters of Ionia" Karma continued. "Who amongst you will fight to defend all that we hold dear? Who has the will to fight?" No one answered the Duchess. Instead they stared emptily at their feet, resigned to endure the unendurable. Irelia scowled. Her fist tightened savagely around her father's Transcendant Blades, turning her tiny knuckles bone-white with anger. She did not hesitate.

"I will! She yelled with all her might and resolve. The crowd shuffled and turned to face who had spoken. The force of it demanded their attention. "I will fight! She yelled once more. Those closest to her flinched at the ferocity of her declaration.

"So, the Elders decided to surrender have they? I haven't! Have you?" She pointed at them, her eyes hunting down individuals. "Have you?!" she repeated. They could not meet her gaze; their shame was too great. She let the question hang in the air, filling the void left in her wake. Irelia turned away, unable to look at them any longer. "Let them surrender. As for me…" She hefted her father's legacy, the trademark weapon of the heirs of the Hiten style, high above her head for all to see. "…I decide my fate! As do each and every one of you!"

They were all looking at Irelia and her weapon now. When the Ionians saw the signature vermillion orb encased by four keen edged blades, excited murmurs and shouts rang out amongst them.

"I know that weapon!

"That's the blade of Master Lito!"

"Lito? They say he once sat in a rainstorm and not a drop of water touched him."

"That's his daughter, the heir to the Hiten style!"

"Is she seriously going to fight the Noxians. There's no way, there are too many, even for someone like her!"

Irelia silenced them by stabbing the ends of her blades into the ground. Her back was still turned away, facing in the direction of her enemies.

"As I said, I am going to fight. I don't care how many of you follow me. Whether Ionia's defiance numbers one or one million, I will meet them head on."

She strode through the crowd, and they parted like leaves before a gale. "I will not look back. I will not give in. I will not falter! Look Ionia, do you see it?" Irelia gestured with her blades to the south, towards the hordes of pillagers coming to sack her beloved city.

"There! The enemy lie's before us. But they are weak, pathetic when compared to the true enemy; the enemy I see lurking in your hearts: fear! What are you afraid of? Death?"

She tilted her head back, laughing as if hearing an absurd lie from a fool claiming it as certainty. "Death is not what you should fear, it is _living_ in fear! Overcome it, and you will have the strength necessary to preserve all that you hold dear. What can surrender defend? Your families? The state? The future? All you can shield with order is compromise. All you can protect with peace is yesterday! There is only one thing that can protect Ionia!"

Irelia breathed in deeply, using the air in her lungs to propel a single word like an arrow through the hearts of her people.

"US!

The word echoed throughout the entire square and within each and every man, woman, and child to receive it, but Irelia was not done.

"Those of you who can fight, grab your swords! Grab your spears, grab your knives, your bows, your halberds, and axes. Don your armor, your helmets, your shields, and if you have none of those then don your _courage_! Courage to face our foes. Courage to seize our destiny. Courage to risk all our days for this one chance! O _ne_ final opportunity to let our enemies know there is a price we will not pay; a boundary beyond which they cannot hope to advance! Brothers! Sisters! Fathers, mothers, and daughters of Ionia; I ask of you now…do I stand alone?"

Again, there was silence, and though Irelia had committed herself to this path, to charge forth into hell even with nobody at her side, the dismay of knowing how easily her people gave up in the face of tyranny nearly overwhelmed her. Holding back her tears with all her might she stepped forward…alone.

A hand grasped her shoulder. Irelia turned. It was an elderly man. He looked deep into her eyes and though he was beyond his physical prime she could see sparks kindled within them. No, not sparks; they were torches blazing with life.

"No" he said, shaking his head. "You do not." Without another word, he hoisted a pick axe over his shoulder and limped towards the valley beyond. Out of the hazy, tear stricken, corners of her vision Irelia could make out others moving past her: men and women, husbands and wives, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters; all heading south to challenge fate.

~:~

Aatrox lay on his side, wings folded around him, body shaking uncontrollably. It took the Darkin a moment to realize what was happening to him. He was laughing. **"Girl** …."

He rolled onto his back, left arm outstretched towards the azure sky.

".… **I can't wait to see it. Your** ** _magnum opus_**." Aatrox opened his fist. Nestled within the shelter of his palm, was the rigid form of the moth. In its last moments, in a final act of rebellion, the moth had righted itself one last time; gracefully composed for its rendezvous with death.

Aatrox rose from his position, the moth still clutched in his hand. His body crackled with an energy and passion he hadn't felt in ages.

 **"** **Come.",** said the Darkin. **"Let us witness her metamorphosis."** He looked down from his vantage point, his eyes fondly tracing the lithe figure of the Ionian girl as she raced recklessly towards the valley, her enemies, and immortality.

" **Let us witness truth**."

Even from this distance the Darkin Blade could still see the fire blazing within her soul. To Aatrox, it was a most precious and endearing light.


	3. Fracture: part 1

**Valoran is still reeling from the numerous conflicts that erupted shortly after the fall of the League of Legends. The Return of the Watchers, the Void Invasions, the Noxian Civil War, Shuriman Conquests, and most recently the Machine Wars have greatly altered the geological and political landscape of the continent. This tumultuous time period has been dubbed the "Century of Calamity." Now 50 years after the failed trans-humanist revolution led by the Machine Herald a new Valoran has begun to take shape...but is history about to repeat itself?**

 _(Many human champions have long since been deceased due to the timeline. However many non-humans and the descendants of champions certainly exist and may make an appearance.)_

* * *

 _Human…._

 _Ba-Bump._

 _Human. Do you wish to live?_

 _Ba-Bump._

Krystal coughed and spluttered. Fire danced around her and through the flames she could see the decaying form of the trans-humanist war machine. Even in its aged and ruined state the sight of it had still struck her with awe. Its shape resembled that of an enormous scorpion. Serrated chain saw blades made up its claws. The tail had been shorn off; its harpoon like appendage lay in a crumpled mess, abandoned in a pool of rust colored liquid. She imagined the eyes on its mangled face plate would have looked terrifying lit up; a merciless red color, and emotionless for all of the fire that might have blazed within them. Was that where the voice was coming from? No, it was closer. A vibration rumbled between her slender arms.

 _Oh yeah, the gem._ She peeked down at it. It was all she could do to move. The pain…it hurt so much. A violet-sapphire gem the size of her head was tightly clutched in the folds of her slender arms. She vaguely recalled having pulled it from the core of the colossal metal monstrosity. That's right. That's when everything had gone horribly wrong…

 _Ch-Chink!_ She felt a new sensation as cold steel pressed against her left temple. Another machine towered over her, only this one was perfectly functional. A trickle of blood rolled down her cheek, tickling the surface of her skin. She wanted to wipe it away if only to relieve the itch. Krystal didn't understand. Why was there a Battlecast Marauder Class still active? Weren't they all annihilated in the war sixty years ago?

INTERLOPER PACIFIED. REQUESTING TERMINATION OF INTERLOPER. REQUESTING EXTRACTION OF BATTLECAST ARACHIA CORE. AWAITING ORDER CONFIRMATION. REQUEST 1….PENDING. REQUEST 2…CONFIRMED.

REQUEST 1…

 _T-termination?_ Krystal shuddered. The magnitude of what was happening to her seemed too nightmarish to be real.

 _"_ PENDING."

 _Am I going to die?_

 _"_ PENDING."

The voice? What had it asked her?

"PENDING."

 _Do I want t-to live?_ She knew the answer.

 _"_ PENDING."

 _Yes. Please…_

 _"_ CONFIRMED!"

"Please!" She wanted it to be a scream, but it only came out as a whimper.

 _As you wish._ The _Arachia_ in her possession hummed soothingly against her body.

Despite everything, Krystal managed to smile. "Thank you." Krystal squeezed the gem tighter as if to communicate her gratitude through body language. She hadn't expected it to reply, and she didn't know what it could do to save her. Even if it didn't she felt a strange sort of peace wash over her. At least she wouldn't die alone. "Thank you". Krystal whispered to the gem once more. "Whoever you are."

 _Are you ready?_

"Mm-hmm." She nodded lightly and closed her eyes, embracing whatever would happen next. The heat from the muzzle pressed against her head was starting to burn. The Machine was recharging its augmented canon. Her death would come swiftly.


	4. Fracture: Part 2

**ONE WEEK EARLIER**

* * *

Her bus would come swiftly. Or so Krystal hoped. Union City traffic was a fickle and nightmarish beast at best. At worst it was a leviathan that trapped any careless commuters and unfortunate first-day transfer students into being tardy for their social obligations. She stood underneath a bus stop next to a congested intersection packed with a muddled mass of transportation. Her hope waned with every passing moment. " _So much for making a good first impression."_ Krystal thought to herself, crestfallen beyond all measure.

Krystals depression was at odds with the rest of the cities energy however. Road rage was all the rage this morning. Drivers honked physically and verbally. The cities inventions were not to be outdone by their owners either. A few of the "vehicles" even joined in with some choice expletives of their own.

"KEEP-MOVING-JERK-OFF."

"Hey! Tell your dumbass convertible golem to shut up would ya, before I stuff a potato in its mufflers!"

The convertible auto golem in question was half-car and half steam-golem. It was a curious invention, designed to replace the role of driving so passengers could focus on other things. Supposedly they were safer, and highly customizable. This one was obviously customized to reply to road rage with very frank and crude hand gestures. "WHY-DON'T-YOU-STUFF-THESE-IN- ** _YOUR_** -MUFFLER?" The golem replied monotonously, raising two enormous power fists into the air. "AND-BY- ** _MUFFLER_** -I-MEAN-YOUR-EXCRETORY-APPARATUS. BETTER- KNOWN-IN-LAYMANS-TERMS-AS- ** _YOUR-ASS_**."

"Why you little-" BEEEEEEEP!

The Auto-Golem flexed its arms up and down mockingly at the driver."I-HOPE-YOU-CAN-SEE-THIS-CAUSE-I'M-DOING-IT-AS-HARD-AS-I-CAN. HA. HA. HA. HA."

Krystal couldn't help but giggle at the exchange. It was almost enough to cheer her up, watching the automotive golem's antics. If Krystal didn't know better she could have sworn the Golem was sentient. That was impossible however. Well to be more precise it was downright illegal. Still she couldn't help but smile at the audacious machine. At least he seemed to be enjoying himself. As entertaining as it was, though it didn't change the fact she would be penalized if she were late. The next bus needed to get here yesterday. Krystal had already missed the last one, chasing after it while the machine disappeared down the street corner and into the less frequently trafficked tunnels built specifically for the Academy's bus routing system. "Please show up. Please show up. Please show up." She prayed fervently.

The gods heard her prayer. Across the street from Krystal, on the other side of the traffic lanes, a bus rolled to a stop next to a bunch of junior-high students about her age. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Krystal gripped her twin-tails in frustration. She couldn't believe this! She had been sitting here, fidgeting for over half-an hour. Those students only got there moments ago, and _their_ bus shows up first?

"No fair!" Krystal chewed her lip indecisively for a few moments before making up her mind. She was so going to regret this. "Oooh! Wait for me!" With that she took off between the rows of cars cluttered together. Krystal could barely squeeze in between the bumpers despite her petite figure. Her bloated book-bag, suitcase, and lunchbox weren't helping much either. She took to the roofs, trunks, and hoods instead, leaping across the fray. Her heart climbed into her throat as she was serenaded by a symphony of furious horns and coarse language.

"Dumb kid!" BEEEEPPP!  
"What the hell!" HONK!

"Get out of the damn street!" BEBE-BEEEP!

"I hope your parents can pay for my paint job!"

"GO-GET-EM-GIRL. HA. HA. HA."

"I'M SORRY!" Krystal pleaded sincerely over the cacophony. "I'm _really_ sorry!" Her face flushed scarlet. Krystal was embarrassed beyond all measure, and couldn't believe what she was doing _. I've gone insane_! But another small grudging part of her mind was really enjoying herself. This had to be illegal. Maybe she was going through that rebellious phase parents always complained about? It didn't matter now. She was way too committed. Going back was out of the question, and she was so close to her goal. Krystal would have rather ran on the asphalt, but there was no time. The last few students were making their way onto the bus. Some of them noticed her wild flight across Union City traffic, pointing at her excitedly through the windows. Before she knew it the rest of the students had opened their windows as well. Hanging out as far as they could, they waved frantically in her direction and tried to shout at her above the noise of the city. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but her pessimism was settling back in and she could only imagine that they were cracking jokes at her expense. _My school-life is ruined. I'll forever be known as 'that jay-walker girl'!_ Her confidence waned, and it almost sent her teetering to the ground just as she made another daring leap of faith. Krystals arms flailed wildly. She nearly lost her balance landing on the sunroof belonging to the owner the automotive golem had flipped off earlier. _Shut up brain! Just a few more lanes and it'll all be over!_

Something _shifted_ , but before she knew what was happening Krystal fell backwards landing heavily through the sunroof, and onto the lap of a very shocked and very enraged driver. The sunroof had shattered from the force of the fall and the combined weight of her luggage. _Oh my god! I'm_ _such a fatty!?_ She remembered how stuffed her bookbag, suitcase, and lunch box were. Her dad never shirked on giving her a hearty meal, and the textbooks were nothing to scoff at either. Krystal supposed she should be impressed her back hadn't given out in her mad dash, but the adrenaline rush had been sufficient to keep her going. Not so with her new precarious position. She was angled in such a way that the weight of her luggage kept her from sitting up, no matter how much she struggled. At first all she could think about was how she was going to miss her bus-

Then she made eye-contact with the driver. _Uh-oh…_

The man was not cussing or swearing anymore. He was completely silent, just staring at her. He seemed to be on the edge of losing it completely, and the worst part was Krystal couldn't move at all. Krystal didn't know if there was a stereotypical face that could be ascribed to abusive-drunk fathers, but this guy had it. He looked mean. _Very_ mean. Krystal's heart was hammering in her chest for a very different reason now. What she'd been doing was frightening but also very exhilarating. Now she was just scared. She wanted to say something. Anything! Deep down though, she knew all that could be uttered was a pitiful sob. The weight of her transgression was starting to sink in. The feeling worsened the longer she stared at the gaping hole above them.

"So". The man's voice cut through the silence like a knife. His gaze smoldered like burnt cigarettes. The car reeked of them too. "Are you sorry?" He asked coldly. He almost sounded genuinely curious. Krystal wondered if the man did have kids, and whether he passed the time sitting in traffic pondering when to beat them and for how long. "Well?" He asked again, impatience tingeing his voice.

Krystal could only nod, terrified and ashamed as she was.

"You are huh?" The man reached over the dashboard, the sudden motion causing her to flinch instinctively. He chuckled unpleasantly at her response while grabbing onto the pack of lights he'd been reaching for. He used his mouth to pull one of the paper rolls out of its cardboard container. They were Nashor's Cigs, probably the cheapest brand you could get at a convenience store.

"Light it." He demanded.

"Wha-?"

"Light it!" He roared.

Krystal was shell-shocked. She didn't have a lighter on her. She wasn't a smoker, nor did she plan on being one. _How is lighting his cigarette supposed to make this all better?_ Images flashed through Krystal's mind of men in interrogation rooms pressing burning cigars to bare flesh. A time honored torture tactic, generally favored by Militant Noxians when they were still around. The thought was enough to get her adrenaline pumping again. She heaved as hard as she could, finally dislodging her backpack from the narrow space. Free from the constraint, Krystal crawled backwards as far away from the man as she could before bumping into the passenger door behind her.

The man was still staring at her. Through the driver side window she could see the buses engine rev up once more. It would take off soon, and then she would have to go home and explain to her father why she was late for her first day at Union Academy. She couldn't imagine how disappointed he would be. Krystal was about to make a break for it, but she hesitated. Her eyes surveyed her handiwork on the sunroof. It was bad. Car repairs were not cheap. Guilt wormed its way into her conscience. _I really screwed up._ She sighed. Her father would be furious with her if he ever found out she had vandalized someone's property and not taken responsibility for it. More importantly she wouldn't be able to forgive herself. Whatever happened she had to make things right, even if it cost her.

"Don't even think about running kid-huh?" the man was about to spill into a tirade but the girls change in posture silenced him. She rested on her knees, hands pressed on her thighs, and head bowed; telegraphing her shame. It was a remarkable show of repentance. Her small hands shook slightly as she took in a deep breath to steady her voice.

"I am terribly sorry sir. No amount of apologies can make up for what I've done. What I did was wrong, and stupid, and childish, and irresponsible. I don't expect your forgiveness, and I wouldn't dream of you letting me off without compensation for the damages to your property."

Before the man could reply Krystal was already fumbling within the confines of her back-pack. She hunted swiftly for a pen and paper. Once she procured what she was looking for she placed the paper against the dashboard of the vehicle so she could write without accidentally punching a hole through the parchment. After scribbling some information on the note she handed it over to the man.

"Here." Krystal said demurely.

"What is this? He sneered. "A _written_ apology?"

Krystal shook her head, causing her twin-tails to sway back and forth. "No sir. That's the information for my family business. I'm employed part-time at a pawn shop you see. It's not much, but I will be able to make payments to the damages on your vehicle. I already have quite a bit of money saved up actually, but if that still isn't enough to cover your expenses I can have my father use my earnings to subsidize the remainder." Krystal had been saving up to buy her own vehicle. She almost had enough to buy it too, and if her paycheck had come in sooner she might have already had the vehicle and the insurance to deal with this mess. It was unfortunate, but she would probably have to start all over again. _It doesn't matter. I just have to bite the bullet. It's the right thing to d-._

"You're full of shit!" The man yelled smacking her hand aside; flinging the crumpled piece of paper away.

Krystal drew her stinging hand into her chest. It was throbbing and she wondered if it had been sprained. Hey eyes widened in shock. What had she done wrong? Krystal was completely caught off guard by the man's vehemence.

"But s-sir" she stammered desperately. "It's true. If you just call my father he'll tell yo-"

"Shut the hell up!" You expect me to believe a dumb hoodlum like you has a job and can pay for this!" He cried, while pointing an accusing finger towards the open sky above them. His hand shot forward. He violently tugged on one of her twin tails, pulling her head closer to his face. She could smell his noxious breath laced with nicotine and poor hygiene. "So you got a family business huh? I'm gonna sue you for all your worth then. And after I run your business into the ground, maybe I'll use the money to buy a new car. What do you think about that you damn brat?!"

Krystal couldn't believe what was happening. Her wrist stung from where the man had assaulted her, and her eyes were watering from the man's painful grip on her hair. It felt like he was going to rip the delicate strands out by the roots. Underneath Krystal's pain, fear, guilt and panic, something else bubbled beneath the surface, something violent.

"You…you jackass!" Krystal swung her hefty lunch box with all her might straight into the man's ugly mug. It was one thing if somebody threatened to hurt her, but nobody threatened her family and their livelihood! Krystal was shaking so much she couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger anymore. She swung again.

"I was just"

Smack.

"Trying-

Smack.

-to be responsible"

Smack.

–but you just"

Smack.

–had to be"

The lunch box slammed down one final time on the man's forehead.

-a total creep!"

The man was out cold. Krystal breathed heavily over the man's still form. She waited a few heart stopping seconds. He still wasn't moving. The sinking feeling returned once more. "Oh, oh god. S-sir. Are you oka-AAAAAAHHH!" Krystal yelped. Blood stains dripped from the dents in her lunch box. Tributaries of red slivered down the man's scalp and stained the seats of the vehicle. Hysteria began to settle in. "Heh-heh that's it for me then. It's all over. Heh. I've gone from traffic violator, to vandalism, to second degree murder all in the span of a single morning." Krystal looked despondently out the driver side window. She briefly glimpsed the tail end of her bus disappearing behind a semi before making its descent into the tunnel system below. The vacant bus stop looked almost as empty as she was feeling right now.

"EXCUSE-ME-YOUNG-LADY?"

"Huh w-who's there?" She was in a daze. Krystal didn't want to look up. Knowing her luck it was probably a K-9 Riot Bot, here just in the nick of time to witness her heinous actions.

"ARE-YOU-IN-NEED-OF-ASSISTANCE?"

Curiosity won over Krystal's despair. Her eyes locked with the riveted metal features of the automotive steam golem. It gazed down at her through the gap in the sunroof. Somehow it seemed to be giving off an aura of genuine concern.

Krystals lip quivered. She couldn't think of anything to say. All she could manage was a heartfelt and tearful plea summoned from the very bottom of her soul. "YES! PLEAAAAAAASE!" She cried out, leaping up to wrap her arms around the befuddled machines polygonal head. Krystal buried her face against the Golems chassis, sobbing heavily into the rough steel. She was too upset to care whether the thing she was gripping onto for assurance wasn't made of flesh and blood.

The steam golem jerked awkwardly. Blitzcrank and the girl had become quite the spectacle. Pedestrians and commuters alike stared at the pair, stopping whatever they had been doing to murmur and speculate amongst them-selves what was happening.

Blitzcranks emotional processors were burning at the speed of light. Human emotions never ceased to confound him. His judgment parameters counseled him that, whatever the cause, the current situation demanded that the adolescent female needed comfort of some kind. With utmost care, Blitzcrank lifted one of his Powerfists (strong enough to crush steel and catapult objects weighing over a thousand kilograms) and brought it down slowly over the girl's fragile skull. Blitzcrank proceeded to carefully pat Krystal's hair a few times, before uttering carefully chosen condolences from his wide range of uplifting vocabulary software.

"UM-THERE-THERE…"

* * *

 ****AUTHORS NOTE**

 **Blitzcrank is one of my favorite characters from a thematic sense. I'm looking forward to having more fun writing with him included in the story. So how do you guys like Krystal so far? I kinda like the way her character is turning out even if its only been one chapter. Im gonna try to get to the good parts as fast as I can. I just need to do a little more world building in between chapters, and then we can get to the juicy stuff. As always follow, favorite, or leave a review if you enjoyed yourself. And if you didn't well...leave a review about that too.**


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